I open the motel Bible to a random page. On it, I read "he who lives by the sword, dies by the sword." Interesting, but this is no Garden of Gethsemane, and I'm no savior- quite the opposite, actually. Nietzsche wrote that traditional morality is all wrong. He wrote that the conquest of the weak by the strong is not merely inevitable, but admirable. The strong do what they want and the weak suffer what they must, as Thucydides wrote. He also wrote that the key happiness is freedom, and the key to freedom is courage. I like that quote better, though it less useful than what he said about being strong. Survival of the fittest is not just a tautology; it's also a mission statement.
Meeting low-level clients is always a crap shoot. You never know what they're going to say or ask for. Do they want a picture or a recording? Do they want me to cut off a finger to show them? I usually say to just check the missing persons report every police station puts out. Nobody ever finds the people I get paid to disappear.
Why do I deal with these pathetic amateurs? I don't need the money. I guess just like the thrill of a job. The euphemisms get so tiresome: whack, grease, ice, rub out, disappear, 86, eliminate...there are so many. It's a good thing my parents are dead. They'd be so ashamed of how I turned out. They were good, hard-working, church-going, God-fearing people; both of them. I miss them every day.
The first time I got in a fight a school, my dad tried to put me on the right path. He said to just let it roll off me like water off a duck's back. I don't roll that way. First time I saw the bastard's back turned, I bludgeoned him with a fire extinguisher. It was heaven to watch his blood spray and watch him crumple to the ground in pain. One less jackass who will ever bother me again. It's a minor miracle I only stabbed one guy before I turned 18. That's the thing about violence. It's addictive. The first time you pummel someone into submission and put the fear of God into them, all you want to do is just do it again and again and again. I read once that serotonin floods the nervous system in victory. Whether that's true or not, I don't know. Something flooded my system that day and every time after.
If not for the money and the thrill, I'd have stopped doing this bullshit years ago. Do you know how much of a pain in the ass it is to hide a body? Sure, the lazy way is just to leave the body in the trunk and abandon the car at a big airport. Plenty of morons get caught doing amateur stuff like that. It's not that hard to dig a shallow grave in the woods and sprinkle lye on the corpse so some animal doesn't sniff it and start digging.
I did my first hit in Chicago. Do you know how many unsolved murders there are there? There about 400 homicides most years and half of them go unsolved. At least that's the way it was when I lived there. Did you know I even applied to the Chicago police? I wanted to be a homicide detective. Both the convenience stores got robbed the day I left that town. The first time I whacked a guy in Chicago; I was so scared. And yet it was so easy. I had a 5-shot revolver in my pocket. That stupid asshole stopped to take a leak on a streetlight. Bang. Done. When I saw that no one was looking, I kept walking. Cool, I don't even need to ditch my gun. That's what I thought at the time.
There are always people looking for dangerous men. Some want to hire them, and the rest want them dead or locked up. The thing is, so many people who have no experience with crime or violence of any sort, these idiots think criminals are smart or virtuous. Let me tell you: I know for a fact that almost all criminals are lying, bloodthirsty, sadistic morons. Everyone should clap and cheer when those monsters get locked up. I'm not big on cops because they're the ones who caught me and locked me up. Whatever, I must tell the truth. Soon I will ride the lightning unless the governor pardons me. I deserve it.
In prison, I read a book called You Can't Win. It's by a hobo and a burglar from the 1920s. He writes about the stupidity of cops, criminals, and victims. He also writes of stupidity of himself and his fellow criminals. It was different back then in many ways, but so much the same in others. Criminals like me are motivated by the thrill of easy money, murder, and just breaking the law. My criminal hero is a guy named Carl Panzram. He grew up in an extremely abusive home. At the age of 11, he was sentenced to juvenile prison. Two years later, after being repeatedly beaten, tortured, and raped, he burned the prison down and escaped. Years later, he was asked for his last words before execution. He said: Yes, hurry it up, you Hoosier bastard. I could kill ten men while you're fooling around. By his own admission, he killed at least 21 people.
"Thank you for sharing", says the prison psychologist. I hate group sessions, so she agrees to speak with me one-on-one through the grate of my cell. She knows I don't have a lot of time left. What more can a condemned man say except I wished my life turned out differently? Soon I will face judgement, and I expect no mercy. Do you want to know what the really scary part about killing people is? Once you do it, you realize that it's not that big a deal.
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